


Every Day Is (Not) Exactly The Same

by thebureauisclosed (insibbegerest)



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bad Parenting, Cutting, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self Injury Awareness Day, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 21:44:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3463112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insibbegerest/pseuds/thebureauisclosed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire’s eyes are opening, but he feels as though the rest of his body is still asleep. His head aches, or so he thinks. He can’t even tell anymore.<br/>He looks at his right hand and flexes his fingers to make sure that his limbs are still capable of movement, that he’s not dead yet. No paint smudges are to be found on his skin, he hasn’t touched his brush in a week. He can’t.<br/>He can’t.<br/>(Written for Self Injury Awareness Day)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Day Is (Not) Exactly The Same

Week 1 Day 1

 

Grantaire’s eyes are opening, but he feels as though the rest of his body is still asleep. His head aches, or so he thinks. He can’t even tell anymore.

He looks at his right hand and flexes his fingers to make sure that his limbs are still capable of movement, that he’s not dead yet. No paint smudges are to be found on his skin, he hasn’t touched his brush in a week. He can’t.

He can’t.

 

Week 1 Day 2

 

When Grantaire wakes up, the clock reads 6 a.m. When he stumbles out of the bed, it’s 10:22. He has spent four hours doing nothing but scrutinising the yellow ceiling.

How he hates himself for being such a useless piece of shit.

 

Week 1 Day 3

 

His father yells at Grantaire when they’re having lunch together, calls him lazy and stupid. He’s reprimanding him for pursuing a career in art instead of „doing something proper“.

Grantaire doesn’t even finish his lunch, his stomach is in knots. He has eaten some of the rice, but the meat stays untouched. His father is still shouting abuse while Grantaire is retreating from the battlefield.

 

Week 1 Day 4

 

Grantaire tries to paint, but the outcome only serves to disappoint him, to put it mildly. His father was right, he’s a shitty artist and a waste of space. Grantaire smashes his fist against the wall. It stings. He doesn’t care.

 

Week 1 Day 5

 

He meets Enjolras while crossing the street and, wonder of wonders, their conversation turns into a nasty argument. Grantaire insults Enjolras‘ ideals, as he always does. Why does he keep doing that? Why does he keep upsetting Enjolras, when he likes... no, he doesn’t like him, he...

He is too tired and depressed to think about this, about Enjolras. He should take a nap, perhaps it will make him feel better.

It doesn’t. It really, really doesn’t.

 

Week 1 Day 6

 

Grantaire gets up. He examines the house to make sure his father has gone out already, then he proceeds to the bathroom and locks the door. For about ten minutes, he’s just standing there, unable to move. His legs feel too heavy. When he manages to make a step, he reaches to open the cupboard and takes hold of a razor blade.

Slowly, he rolls up his left sleeve. If he cut his wrist, the gashes would be too visible and Grantaire doesn’t want anyone to notice them. If others knew, they would hate him as much as he hates himself.

When the lock clicks again, five thin red lines are cut into his skin.

 

Week 1 Day 7

 

When he’s showering, he can’t divert his gaze from the cuts. God, just how pathetic has he become?

He cries himself to sleep that night.

 

Week 2 Day 1

 

The exhaustion is going to kill him soon, of that he has no doubt. There’s a cloud of dark thoughts in his head that won’t leave. It has been there for months.

What has he done to deserve such a life?

He hurts himself again because physical pain is simpler to handle, because HE is the one in control now, because he isn’t capable of doing anything else.

The seven new cuts burn, but the pain has a mostly soothing effect.

Grantaire laughs. He is so fucked up.

 

Week 2 Day 2

 

Another encounter with Enjolras. Grantaire apologises for being such an arsehole, for mocking him and ridiculing him all the time.  Enjolras frowns, disbelief written in his beautiful face. What, is it so strange that Grantaire can admit his mistake? Does Enjolras truly hold him in such low regard?

Once he gets home, he cries again. After wiping his tears, he leaves the house and enters the nearby pub. Joly is already there, drinking beer, grinning and telling jokes to a man Grantaire has never seen there before. Grantaire waves at Joly and sits next to him. If Joly notices that Grantaire’s eyes are puffy from crying, he doesn’t mention it, God bless him.

Grantaire gets spectacularly drunk and pukes all over the toilet. Joly has to drag him home and Grantaire’s father isn’t too happy about the state his son got himself in.

Grantaire laughs him in the face, his laughter that of a desperate man. He simply doesn’t give a fuck anymore.

 

Week 2 Day 3

 

How long has it been since he’s created his last piece of art? Who gives a shit. The only art he has been indulging himself in is drawing more bloody patterns into his irritated skin. He reopens his old wounds as the razor blade runs across them. The cuts form some sort of an uneven grid. He could play naughts and crosses on his own fucking arm. He smiles bitterly at the thought.

He wishes he was dead.

 

Week 2 Day 4

 

Joly has been trying to reach him for hours, but Grantaire isn’t anwering his phone. The last thing he wants right now is to talk to anybody.

 

Week 2 Day 5

 

Someone has been knocking on the door. Grantaire is trying to ignore it, but his visitor doesn’t relent and the banging is getting louder. Grantaire sighs and forces himself to open the door.

„Yeah?“ Grantaire says. What a view he must make with his bed hair, undereye circles and dirty clothes.

„Jesus,“ is the only word leaving Joly’s mouth.

„Nah, I haven’t used that name in years. For you, Grantaire,“ Grantaire outstretches his hand and a crooked smile plays on his lips.

Joly doesn’t shake Grantaire’s hand, he doesn’t even laugh. He is too worried about Grantaire to find his stupid jokes funny. „You look like shit.“

„You are very beautiful as well, Joly.“

„God, what’s happened to you?“

„Nothing,“ Grantaire says and pauses. „Well, I was born. That’s the catastrophe that kick-started my misery, if you need an answer. How about we go for a beer, hm? Sounds like more fun than you psychoanalysing me.“

„No,“ Joly shook his head. „Talk to me, Grantaire, please. What’s wrong?“

Grantaire slams the door on Joly’s face.

 

Week 2 Day 6

 

Joly returns. Grantaire puts on his headphones and turns the volume up not to hear his knocking.

Grantaire hasn’t cut himself in three days, not that it’s anything to be celebrated. He isn’t getting any better, he’s still a total mess, only his arms are less bloody. Has he become so fucking lazy and numb that he can’t even hurt himself anymore? He doesn’t know. He thinks it doesn’t matter.

He doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t smile either. He feels nothing.

Perhaps he’s already dead.

 

Week 2 Day 7

 

The bell rings. What, are poor Joly’s knuckles sore now? Has he forgotten how to knock? Grantaire looks out through the peephole and almost faints.

It’s Enjolras.

Grantaire is starting to panic. What could Enjolras possibly want here, what has Grantaire fucked up this time?

He doesn’t want to talk to Enjolras, but he doesn’t dare ignore him. For a boy with rosy cheeks and long blond curls, Enjolras can look very intimidating. Grantaire opens the door.

„Hello,“ says Enjolras and as soon as he spots Grantaire, he frowns. Nothing out of the ordinary, Grantaire thinks. He replies with a curt nod.

„Yesterday, I got a call from Joly,“ says Enjolras and lowers his eye. His fingers are absently toying with the zip on his red hoodie. „He is concerned about you.“

Grantaire shrugs. Joly is his best friend and Grantaire loves him, but he can keep his concern to himself. It’s not like he can help Grantaire; no one can.

„Look, I...“ Enjolras looks nervous and it is such an uncommon sight Grantaire hardly believes his eyes. „Have I upset you? Does this have anything to do with me?“

Grantaire laughs. _Yes and no_ , he wants to say. _It has something to do with everything and you, my leader in red, are definitely a part of the problem. But don’t be so self-important to assume that everything is about you_. „Go home,“ he says instead, not unkindly.  

 „If I have hurt you, I am sorry,“ Enjolras says quietly. „I know we often disagree, but... I respect you and consider you to be my friend. I hate seeing you like this.“

Grantaire takes a deep breath. Has Enjolras really come all the way to his house just to apologise and what, comfort him? Grantaire‘s heart keeps skipping beats, but he is used to that, he has never been able to stay calm in Enjolras‘ presence. No one said falling in love with a person who mostly scowls and scoffs at you would be easy.

„I will be fine,“ Grantaire lies. „Don’t worry, Apollo. And really, go home, it’s cold outside and I’m sure you have a lot of,“ he waved his hand in a vague gesture, „justice-y stuff to do, so...“

„Justice-y stuff,“ Enjolras repeats with a soft amused smile. _Oh no,_ thinks Grantaire, _now he’s smiling at me. I guess I am actually dead. I hope my family picked a cool epitaph to go on my tombstone._

„Yeah,“ Grantaire smiles shakily. „Um. See you some other time?“

„See you.“

Grantaire can’t tear his eyes away from Enjolras‘ retreating form.

 

Week 3 Day 1

 

Grantaire got no sleep last night, he was too busy daydreaming about a certain someone. Currently, he’s drinking his third coffee in a row and he can’t stop picturing Enjolras‘ smile. He’s fucked, so fucked.

When Grantaire goes to bed, at first, his thoughts are pleasant. Then he realises Enjolras would never lay his beautiful eyes upon him again if only he knew. Enjolras would be disgusted that Grantaire dares dream about him like this. He could never reciprocate his feelings, not in a thousand years.

Grantaire’s head hurts and his heart hurts even more. He’s afraid he might burst into tears at any given moment, but he fights the urge, lifts his arse and turns on the TV. Game of Thrones is on. He can’t fully focus on the episode, it’s not that much of a distraction, but watching Joffrey’s stupid face is still better than drowning in self-pity, he supposes.

 

Week 3 Day 2

 

His father gives him a roasting once again. What did he call Grantaire this time? Grantaire should start writing the insults down, some of them are a truly unique use of the English language.

Grantaire runs off to the bathroom, scrabbling around for his sharp steel friend. The edge touches Grantaire’s skin, a single drop of blood leaking out of the scratch. He stops.

Everything is so tiring. Life is tiring, happiness (what does that word even mean?) is tiring, even pain is tiring. He throws the razor blade away in anger. Everyone around him seems to be content, why can’t he? Why can’t he be normal? He wants to be normal, he wants to _live,_ not survive _,_ for fuck’s sake! But his mind is his prison.

And he has no key.

 

Week 3 Day 3

 

He feels like getting out of the bed isn’t worth the effort, yet he does it. If he had the choice, he’d prefer sleeping forever, not perceiving his surroundings. Being at peace.

However, today wasn’t a day for sleeping, no. The anger from yesterday hasn’t wholly disappeared yet. He’s pissed at himself, obviously, but he’s also pissed at his father and at the rest of the world. He won’t let them win, he won’t do them the favour.

He squeezes some red paint on his palette and dips the tip of his brush in it.

Three hours later, he sets the brush aside and wipes the sweat off of his forehead. He isn’t satisfied with his work, but he seldom is. At least he hasn’t been procrastinating the whole day. He can’t say he’s proud of himself, not quite, but he feels a little bit more peaceful than he did yesterday.

 

Week 3 Day 4

 

He paints again, trying to accurately portray the emotions that have been poisoning him. The completed painting reminds him of Munch’s The Scream, except Grantaire only worked with various shades of red, brown and black. His screaming man looks like a demon in agony who is being burnt by the flames of hell. Grantaire has to admit he likes this one.

He hangs it on his wall.

 

Week 3 Day 5

 

His father calls his name. Grantaire ignores him. Whatever the old man wants, he has no interest in hearing it. Grantaire leaves the house and takes a walk around the district. The sun is shining, children’s laughter resonating through the busy street. Despite the emptiness that’s filling him up, he smiles.

Maybe, just maybe, he can get better.

 

Week 3 Day 6

 

He can’t. Obviously he can’t fucking get better, but God, he _wants_ to. The constant hopelessness is destroying him. He wakes from his sleep at 4 a.m., shaking and sick. He swallows two pills that put him to sleep, but he has nightmares and doesn’t get much rest anyway. As he’s sipping his second coffee, he thinks he might get addicted to it if he keeps up this routine.

He is lonely and messed up and lost. He texts Joly, asking him to come for a visit tomorrow. Joly agrees, of course he does. He is just that awesome.

 

Week 3 Day 7

 

He tells Joly everything. Okay, not everything, he leaves out the part about cutting himself because Joly would freak out, but other than that, he bares his soul. Joly listens attentively, his face expressing sympathy. Grantaire hates whining, but as they say, a burden shared is a burden halved.

„You know what I think?“ says Joly after Grantaire falls silent. „I think you should get out of this stupid house and start living your own life. Your arsehole of a father – sorry for that – keeps putting you down, nothing ever changes in your life, it’s the same song over and over again.“

Grantaire laughs, „Right. Look, Joly, I’m broke, I have like twenty pounds on me. I can’t exactly afford a new flat.“

Joly considers this. „My flat is quite large, we could...“

„No,“ Grantaire doesn’t even let him finish the sentence because he knows exactly what Joly wants to suggest. „I’m not moving to your place.“

„Why not? Don’t you like me?“ Joly makes a pouty face.

Grantaire smirks, „You know I love you, but... I don’t want to be a burden to you. I’d make a horrible flatmate and as I’ve told you, I have no money.“

Joly rolls his eyes, „Yeah, so what? I am your friend, not your landlord, you moron. Listen, how about you just try it out? Stay at my place for a week and then you can decide what to do next. Agreed?“

Grantaire knew Joly too well, the medical student was stubborn as a mule and once he made up his mind, nothing in the world would stop him. Well, apart from Musichetta, that girl was a magician.

„Agreed,“ says Grantaire. Joly gives him the brigthest smile.

 

Week 4 Day 1

 

„I’m leaving,“ says Grantaire, not without certain satisfaction.

His father frowns. „What?“

„I’m leaving,“ Grantaire repeats and, true to his words, walks out and slams the door behind him.

 

Week 4 Day 2

 

Joly and Grantaire have a Dexter marathon and they can’t come to an agreement about who is the best villain on the show.

„The Ice Truck Killer,“ says Grantaire.

„Trinity,“ Joly insists.

„Ice Truck.“

„Trinity.“

„Ice Truck.“

„Hannah McKay, if she counts.“ Grantaire jumps out after hearing Bossuet’s voice from behind. „Hey boys, I’ve come to join your serial killer evening, if you don’t mind.“ Grantaire isn’t even surprised Bossued owns a key to their place.

They watch the show together, they eat popcorn, Grantaire even laughs several times. He has difficulty falling asleep and he wouldn’t say he’s happy, but he feels less like dying.

That’s a good thing, isn’t it?

 

Week 4 Day 3

 

Joly and Grantaire spend their afternoon playing video games. Grantaire beats Joly and is smug about it for the rest of the day. He asks Joly to model for him and does a quick sketch of his friend’s smiling face. It’s not Grantaire’s best, but Joly loves it and keeps it, which makes Grantaire feel warm inside. Maybe he can’t appreciate himself and neither can his family, but his friends? They care about him and would never ever abandon him.

 

Week 4 Day 4

 

„Would you draw me, too?“ Enjolras asks. „Not that you have to,“ he adds hastily, „only if you have nothing better to do.“

What could be possibly better than looking at Enjolras? „Y-yeah, okay,“ Grantaire stutters, surprised that Enjolras is actually asking him to do this. He tells Enjolras to sit down in Joly’s orange armchair. Enjolras makes himself comfortable and Grantaire gets down to work. It isn’t by far the first time he has drawn Enjolras (his portfolio contains several sketches of Enjolras frowning angrily or staring resolutely into distance and looking like a god of beauty or something), but he’s never had Enjolras right in front of him while doing so. Grantaire feels jittery under Enjolras‘ fixed stare, he manages to get the better of his nervousness though.

He puts his pencil down and, biting his lip, hands the drawing to Enjolras.

Enjolras thanks him and smiles at him. There’s nothing Grantaire wants more than to kiss him, but instead, he simply smiles back.

 

Week 4 Day 5

 

Grantaire can hear his ringtone, but has no clue where he left the goddamn phone. He dashes into the kitchen and finds out Joly has borrowed the device in order to play Super Mario Bros. He’s seated at the kitchen table, accompanied by Enjolras and Courfeyrac, who are babbling about political nonsense.

„You could at least ask me the next time you want to use my property,“ smirks Grantaire, snatching the phone away from the hands of a pouting Joly. He accepts the call and the voice coming through the phone now belongs to Combeferre instead of Morrissey. „Hi, Ferre.“

„Hi, Taire,“ Combeferre replies. „Hah, we rhyme.“

„We’re obviously meant for each other,“ says Grantaire. „Do you need anything from me?“

„You remember Cosette’s dad, Mr. Valjean, right?“

„You need Mr. Valjean from me?“

„He needs you.“

„What for, he wants to adopt me?“

„You’re so lovable that everyone wants to adopt you, but no, that’s not why I’m calling. He needs someone to design posters for his company, so I showed him some of your work and he was delighted. He wants you to work for him.“

„He wants... what? Are you kidding me, Ferre?“

„When do I ever kid you? So, what do you say?“

Grantaire should be all merry about an offer like this, but... taking on more responsibilities? Dealing with deadlines and shit? A sense of dread crept over him.

Courfeyrac pulled Grantaire’s sleeve and whispered: „Go for it, buddy. You can do it.“

Grantaire took a deep breath. As far as he knew, Valjean was a good man; also, Grantaire sorely needed the money and he loved doing art, so what is he fretting about?

„Tell Valjean I’d love to,“ says Grantaire.

„Great! I’ll tell him that and I’ll give you more details soon. See you.“

„See you.“

As soon as Grantaire hangs up, Joly traps him in a crushing hug. Grantaire leaves out a surprised laugh.

„Our little Grantaire is finally striking out on his own!“ exclaims Courfeyrac. „God, they grow up so fast... Don’t they, Joly?“

„Yeah, they do,“ Joly agrees.

After a long time, Grantaire allows himself to hope things might in fact get better.

 

Week 5 Day 1

 

Last days were quite uneventful – not good, not horrible, more like... neutral. Neutral was alright, Grantaire could deal with neutral, neutral didn’t make him want to commit suicide as opposed to not-neutral. Grantaire is in the middle of designing his first poster for Valjean. It needs some finishing touches, but doesn’t look bad at all.

„I like it,“ says Enjolras.

„Thanks. You’ve been hanging around a lot lately,“ Grantaire notes. Not that he minds, he only finds it strange.

Enjolras shrugs, „That’s true.“

„Let me guess, there hasn’t been enough justice-y stuff going on lately, huh?“

„There is always enough justice-y stuff going on in a world like ours where no one is truly free, unless he or she or they...“

„Yep, I get it, our society sucks dick.“

„If you want to put it bluntly, yes,“ Enjolras says. „But I believe there are better days to come. I believe we can make it better.“

Grantaire regards Enjolras with affection. _He really believes that,_ he thinks. Enjolras‘ determination was inspiring, terrifying and adorable at the same time.

„Well,“ Grantaire speaks, „you know me, I am no optimist, but if anyone is capable of making a difference in this fucked up place, I believe it’s you.“

Enjolras seems satisfied with his answer.

 

Week 5 Day 3

 

Valjean loves the poster and Grantaire receives his first payment. He goes out to celebrate with Joly and Bossuet. They only drink champagne, Grantaire’s friends don’t want him to get drunk and neither does he. He has to pull himself together, not fall back to the bottom. He got an opportunity to prove the world that he isn’t completely useless and he isn’t going to let it slip through his fingers.

He takes a selfie with Bossuet, they’re grinning and Grantaire is holding a bottle of expensive champagne. He sends the photo to his father with a message reading „No one is ever going to employ an artist, right? ;)“

He gets no answer, but he wasn’t expecting one. And he doesn’t need one.

 

 Week 5 Day 5

 

„Will you go out with me?“

„What,“ says Grantaire, freezing like a deer in headlights. This was a stupid joke.

„Will you go out with me?“ Enjolras repeats patiently, tapping his feet while waiting for Grantaire’s answer.

Grantaire’s breath gets stuck in his throat. He is at a loss for words. Enjolras must be making fun of him in a rather cruel manner... It doesn’t sound like something he would do, though. Enjolras isn’t one for pranks. On the other hand, asking Grantaire out didn’t sound like something Enjolras would do, either.

„I must be dreaming,“ that is the only explanation Grantaire can think of.

Enjolras heaves a martyred sigh, „And to think Combeferre says you don’t deserve it when I keep calling you an idiot...“ Enjolras gives Grantaire no time to form an articulate response. He grasps the fabric of Grantaire’s shirt, pulls him close and slams their lips together in a fervent kiss.

Grantaire’s legs turn to jelly and his brain goes on holiday. It takes him a while to collect himself, return the kiss hungrily and wrap his arms around Enjolras.

Okay. Perhaps Enjolras wasn’t making fun of him, after all.

 

Week 5 Day 6

 

Their first date goes remarkably well, to Grantaire’s amazement. Enjolras takes him to a posh restaurant Grantaire himself would never pick. First, Grantaire feels out of place because he doesn’t belong there and he definitely doesn’t belong to Enjolras‘ side, but eventually, he relaxes. Enjolras is charming and beautiful and not rude at all because they’ve been avoiding talks of social justice as plague. Or perhaps Enjolras has come to terms with the fact that Grantaire is never going to become a flaming revolutionary. Perhaps the knowledge that Grantaire at least believes in _him_ is enough for now.

Whatever is going through Enjolras‘ head, Grantaire keeps grinning like a lovesick teenage girl the whole time. Thankfully, it doesn’t scare Enjolras off.

When they’re saying goodbye to each other, Grantaire gathers all his courage, leans to Enjolras and gives him a short kiss. Enjolras doesn’t mind. At all.

Grantaire’s mouth hurts from smiling and he wonders how it’s possible for him to love someone so much.

 

Week 6 Day 6

 

The day after their second date, Enjolras comes for a visit. Grantaire greets him with a smile and a kiss on his cheek. He’s been painting with his fingers and he is aware the paint is everywhere – on the ground, on his clothes, in his hair. He knows he probably doesn’t look very presentable, but that is no reason for Enjolras to look at him like that, right?

„What’s wrong?“ Grantaire asks. Oh no. Is Enjolras here to dump him? Has he come to the conclusion that all of this was a mistake? Grantaire’s eyes widen with fear. _Please don’t leave me,_ he thinks, panicked. _Not now, not now that life has become bearable. Don’t do this to me, Enjolras._

Enjolras walks towards him slowly, taking Grantaire’s hand in his.

„Wait, the paint...“

„I don’t mind,“ says Enjolras quietly, his eyes fixed on Grantaire’s arm. Shit. Grantaire forgot he had tucked up his sleeves to avoid smearing his shirt with paint. The red scars stand out against Grantaire’s tanned skin. His mouth goes dry and his hands are trembling in shame. He flinches away from Enjolras.

„Grantaire...“

„I’m sorry,“ Grantaire blurts out, reaching to roll his sleeve down, but Enjolras stops him with a gentle touch.

„Sorry for what?“

„Sorry for being such a fucking mess,“ Grantaire laughs humourlessly.

Enjolras looks unsettled, searching for the right words. „I don’t think you’re a mess,“ he says finally. „Grantaire, please... talk to me. Why would you hurt yourself like this?“

„Because I fucking hate myself, that’s why. Because I wanted to escape, to stop thinking for a while.“

„When was the last time you...“

„Several weeks ago.“

„And since then?“

Grantaire shakes his head, „Nah. Can’t say I haven’t been thinking about it though... I’ve been trying to fight it, you know? But it’s so fucking hard, Enjolras, my mind is trying to kill me.“

Enjolras wraps him in a tight embrace and Grantaire buries his nose in his shoulder. Enjolras is warm and his fingertips begin to draw soothing circles on Grantaire’s back. „You can do this, Grantaire, trust me. You’ve been doing better lately, haven’t you?“

Grantaire nods, not quite trusting himself to speak yet.

„See. It’s not easy for you, I know, but if you ever need help, I am here for you. And so are Joly and Bossuet and everyone else. We care about you. Don’t ever think you don’t matter. Don’t ever think you’re worthless.“

Grantaire’s eyes are stinging.

„Don’t ever think you’re worthless,“ Enjolras repeats firmly, „you’re kind and funny and talented and last but not least, strong. Life has put you through so much, but you’re still standing. You’ve got a new job, a new flat, a new life, you have amazing friends. You have me. Whatever burdens you’re carrying, you’re not carrying them alone. You’ll _never_ be alone, I promise.“

Grantaire wants to believe Enjolras‘ optimistic words, wants it so much. He’s not sure if he’s capable of such a thing though. Future is still unsure for him and he’s afraid of what it might bring, but here and now, with Enjolras‘ arms around him, he feels safe. He feels loved. A strange sensation starts blossoming in his chest – _hope._

Maybe, just maybe, there could be some truth to Enjolras‘ words.

Only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic, I hope it doesn't suck too much. Sorry for the mistakes, I'm no native speaker, obviously.  
> As the summary says, I wrote this fic for SIAD. If you've ever self-harmed (or considered it), I want you to know that you're not alone and that recovery is possible. There is always someone willing to listen.  
> If you know anyone who self-harms, please, be considerate, DON'T BLAME THEM and do your best to help.  
> In case anyone cares, my tumblr url is captainenjolsass <3  
> Stay strong and take care. You can do it.


End file.
